


For Him (And Us Too)

by horchatita394, wishingonalightningbolt



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst and Porn, Dubious Consent, Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, F/M, M/M, Multi, OT5, Pack Bonding, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 22:43:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1566698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horchatita394/pseuds/horchatita394, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wishingonalightningbolt/pseuds/wishingonalightningbolt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott feels like a shitty Alpha.  Everyone wants to prove to him that he's the best, in a rather unorthodox way.  A sex way.</p><p>-0-</p><p>If you disagree with anything you think you may find in here (meaning pack sex), DO NOT READ.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Him (And Us Too)

**Author's Note:**

> Felt like writing some epic multi-person smut. Enjoy!
> 
> Update: If you do not like what you see in the tags, please do not read the story, much less leave negative or insulting comments below! It's insanely uncool and I would super appreciate it if you just stayed away, rather than giving me a speech that I don't particularly care to hear. This was written as a response to a prompt, and although it does not represent what I usually write, it's happened, so get over it and don't read it if you don't want to.

Stiles knows something insane and possibly awesome is brewing because Kira is wearing her leather jacket. It used to belong to Laura Hale. Derek never made a big deal about giving it to Kira in the midst of chaos, but when Kira realized who it had belonged to she put her faith in its power. And boy, did it have power. That jacket had gotten Derek to move out of the loft, show up at lacrosse games and actually sit in the stands, and deliver salad wraps to the Sheriff's office. That jacket could bend Derek's will in a second.

“Oh God,” Stiles whispers before smiling. “Kira. What’s up?”

Derek has a real apartment now, one suitable for a responsible human being. He pulls shifts at a bar on Main Street and just applied to work as a personal trainer at the gym in Beacon Heights. The apartment is smaller than the loft, economically sound, and came furnished, which means he’s a lot more careful about where he gets blood.

Derek is sitting on a lounge chair in front of the television, but it’s muted and he has a book in his hands. Stiles was working on an essay before Kira showed up, but now she pushes past him and comes to stand in the middle of the room.

“Hi, guys,” she says brightly, smiling as she tugs Tupperware out of a canvas bag. “Mom made some cranberry muffins.”

“Oh, God,” Derek mutters from the couch. Stiles feels his pain. “What's up, Kira?”

“Relax! Can't I come visit? Can't we chat?”

Derek rolls his eyes and shoves himself out of his chair, walking over to the muffins, eyeing them with disdain. “Out with it.”

Kira sets the muffins down on the coffee table—yeah, Derek has a coffee table, with coasters and everything—and sits herself down on the couch. “Why don’t you boys take a seat?”

Stiles and Derek exchange a look. Stiles is currently debating running for the door, leaving Derek to deal with Kira on his own. He has a better chance of saying no to whatever she’s going to suggest.

“What’s this about?” Derek asks.

“Scott,” she says simply. “He’s not doing well.”

Stiles frowns. “What?”

She sighs. “He’s—okay, you guys know Scott. He’s warm and sweet and open—”

“Kira,” Derek starts. She shakes her head. “And he tries, but I see things are getting harder for him. He's scared. Sometimes he talks to me about how he isn't sure he's connected to the pack. He's afraid we're not close enough to him for him to protect us.”

“Um,” Stiles says, already defensive, “we are the co-founders and presidents of the Scott McCall Fan Club TM, okay? Go Scotty, all for Scotty—seriously.” He’s almost a hundred percent certain that Derek is rolling his eyes. “Why would he feel disconnected? I mean, I know the shit that went down in Mexico, and Allison and Isaac and—” He breaks off, because he knows how hard that was for Kira too, for her to watch the guy she was in love with mourn Allison Argent, for her to watch her Alpha say goodbye to her and then accept Isaac walking away. “We’re on board the Scott McCall train, okay?”

She gets that wicked smile of hers. She is a wicked little thing, Stiles thinks to himself. A good fox, but a fox nonetheless. “That's exactly what I need. All of us, on board the Scott McCall train.”

“I feel like she's saying something I'm not hearing,” Derek says, an almost undetectable terror in his voice.

“Lydia’s already agreed to it, so now it’s just you two—”

“Wait,” Stiles interrupts, “are you seriously saying what I think you’re saying?” Kira ignores him. “—in the name of pack bonding, it’s really the best option—”

“We could all go out for ice cream!” Stiles says, slightly hysterical. “We could have a pow wow on the floor about our feelings and braid each other’s hair!” He’s about to continue, about to say that it’s completely inappropriate for Kira to even suggest this, but then Derek’s hand settles on the back of his neck, warm and firm, and Stiles feels the bottom drop out of his stomach. “You’re kidding me,” he says to Derek, looking at him over his shoulder. “You’re okay with this?”

“Only if you are,” he says in that soft voice that Stiles has only just started to discover.

“Of course,” Kira says through a nod, “but we all have to be on the same page.”

“I'm not saying that I can't or that I won't, but—man, are you sure?”

Derek plays with the hairs in the back of his neck. “She's right. In packs that aren't bound by blood, it's a form of bonding.”

“Yeah, but us bonding with Scott has never included excess penises and some stray sets of boobs.”

Kira punches him in the arm. Not very hard.

Derek just looks at him, though, and finally Stiles sighs, closes his eyes. His own voice is soft when he says, “Okay, fine—pack bonding it is,” and Kira beams.

They plan to meet at Derek’s because he has the most privacy and the biggest bed. Stiles is still trying to figure out how they’re supposed to fit five people on one California King mattress, but he supposes Kira will have a solution. She always does.

Stiles is nervous. He's nervous about how Scott is going to take this. He's worried about being blinded for the second time in his life by Lydia Martin's naked glory. He's nervous about seeing his best friend's girlfriend's naked glory and even though it's not the first time he's seeing Scott naked, he's worried about that too. If he's really very honest, a tiny twisted part of him (there are so many of those now) is nervous about Derek experiencing all that naked glory beside Stiles and having such an open opportunity to compare.

He and Derek have had sex, like, five times. Okay, well, that’s not strictly accurate. There have been five or so different occurrences when they spent the night together, but all of those occurrences featured multiple showing of the Stiles-and-Derek-sexy-times show. Derek doesn’t even growl anymore when Stiles calls it that. That’s progress.

The thing is, he and Derek have been building their relationship for a long time, okay? Like, he’s about to be a senior in high school; they have two weeks of school left. And he and Derek have been trying to work this thing out since the fucking nogitsune. It’s a long-ass time. And he doesn’t want all of his hard work to go to waste when Derek can literally glance between Stiles’ naked body and that of Lydia Martin—even though he’s more likely to compare Scott and Stiles, since he hasn’t really been that interested in women lately.

Either way, Stiles does not feel great about this.

* * *

Derek is oblivious the day of, like he's nesting or something for his Alpha. Which is another thing. At some point Stiles began to see what he had always labeled as a creepy obsession for what it really was. Derek adored Scott. Not in a romantic way, but that doesn't make it any less intense.

Lydia gets there just a few minutes after Stiles and then it's like they're planning a party, what with making the bed look both neat and comfortable, speaking in hushed tones about how to ease Scott into the situation, and generally looking like two gorgeous people about to be involved in supernatural polyamorous sex. Which is another thing. There's going to be a lot of supernatural stamina in this party and Stiles sees a clear and present danger of ending up on his ass on the hardwood floor.

Lydia and Derek look devastatingly attractive just standing there talking to each other, so Stiles scoots back towards the living room couch so he can bemoan his own speckled awkwardness. He knows he’s not an unattractive guy—logically, he knows that—but Lydia and Derek are practically Greek material, okay? He’s been having regular sex for less than a month, and they both have years of experience over him. He doesn’t want to know about Kira’s past, but at least she and Scott have been getting it on lately, which means there is a very distinct possibility he is going to be left in the dust. He wonders, though, if he’ll really mind.

He can see, when Lydia and Derek exit the bedroom again, that Lydia has a hand on Derek’s forearm, and a new worry strikes him. He has to watch Derek be intimate with other people. People who aren’t him. People who probably give better head and who don’t bitch about prep for twenty minutes before they actually get to the fucking. Something about his physiology must change with this thought, because Derek zeros in on him just as the doorbell rings and Lydia goes to get it.

Stiles looks away.

It's only Kira, because she's decided that they're going to blindside Scott with this and whatever. She knows him better than Stiles in this one particular area of Scott's life. But then he guesses the same is true of Derek for him. He feels the dip on the couch and licks his lips.

“Stiles,” Derek says with the quiet voice, “we don't have to do this.”

It lifts something in Stiles' spirit, the way Derek says it. Like they're a package deal.

“It's weird but I mean, I'm willing to do anything for Scott.”

“It's not necessary,” Derek says. “We can find another way to show him our trust and—”

Stiles smiles. He knows it's hard for Derek to use words of affection. It's even hard for him when it comes to Cora, much less anyone else.

“We gotta let Scotty know we love him, body and soul, I get it. I'm good for it. Just feeling a little under-experienced.”

“You're not the only one who's having a fivesome for the first time,” Derek points out.

“I just—I just really want you to keep that in mind, yeah? I'm still getting the hang of it. I'm sure everyone here is like an Olympian of sex and I'll get there. Probably. Just—”

“Stiles,” Derek says, finally lifting his chin so that Stiles can't help but look at him, “I wouldn't have anything to contribute to this if it weren't for you.” Stiles blinks and Derek sighs and grabs his hand. “Lydia feels powerful when she's having sex and Kira has this relationship with Scott. I get to contribute something because…because of what I have with you.”

Stiles can’t respond properly, not with words anyway, so he lunges in for a kiss, cupping Derek’s cheek. “So I guess I’m kind of important, huh?”

Derek nods, squeezing his hand. “You’re important, Stiles. Don’t think that you aren’t.”

“Right!” Kira says loudly, clapping her hands together. “Game plan.”

Stiles drapes a hand over his face. “Jesus Christ is that a whiteboard?”

Kira rolls her eyes. “Okay maybe the board is overkill. Basically we're going to be very—um—we’ll move slowly. Okay? Think of frightened cats. No sudden movements. I'll take the lead, obviously, and sort of let him know what's going on. Make sure he knows we're all okay with it and make sure that he's okay with it too. And then Stiles can join us—”

“Whoa, what?”

Lydia rolls her eyes rather more violently than Kira had. “It's a matter of making Scott comfortable. Derek and I will freak him out if we jump in too quickly. We have to start with the people he's most used to being physically close to.”

Derek’s hand is still settled on Stiles’ arm and he squeezes his bicep encouragingly.

“And then Lydia,” Kira says. “But she has to latch herself onto me, basically; and then Derek onto Stiles. And as we progress, Scott gets some loving and everybody wins.”

Lydia shrugs and sits down on the arm of a chair, reaching to take off her shoes. They’re pink and very tall and she leaves them under the coffee table. Kira, obviously having sensed that the meeting is over for now, goes to stow the whiteboard in the kitchen, and when she returns she strips off her jacket and hangs it over the couch.

Derek is not usually a big supporter of public displays of affection, and that rule is only heightened when they’re in front of the pack. He and Stiles will sit together sometimes, but there’s no touching, no groping, and certainly no kissing. Stiles knows how big of a deal this is when Derek leans his forehead against Stiles’ shoulder like he does when they’re in bed together, like he does when they’re having a quiet, intimate moment. Only this time Derek is doing it in front of everybody.

There’s a knock on the door, then, and everyone freezes just a little bit.

“Okay, everyone just breathe it out,” Kira says, practically under her breath and mostly to herself. Scott comes in with that huge grin of his. The ever present tension in his shoulders would have gone unnoticed if everyone didn't know why he was here.

“So pack meeting, huh?” Scott says with a nod. “Is something going on? Everyone all right?”

“We're fine.” Lydia smiles.

“Not much happening,” Stiles agrees, squeezing Derek's shoulder. “Just, uh, wanted some quality pack time.”

Scott's smile is true and blinding this time, though his eyebrows do their confused dance when Kira shoves his jacket off him and leans in. Stiles almost cracks up at the shades that color Scott's cheeks when Kira leans in and whispers something that Derek can probably hear. Scott looks—uncomfortable, kind of. He doesn’t say anything, though, just steps forward into the room and lets Kira get his jacket off his arms. He only makes a small surprised noise when she kisses him, which is a testament to his love for her, because really she’s very sudden and very forceful with her affection. All the time.

“Um,” Scott says eventually.

Lydia stands and goes into the kitchen nook. “Anyone want a drink?”

Kira finally separates herself from her boyfriend, tugging him to sit down on the couch. “Sure,” she says, and from left to right it goes Derek, Stiles, Scott, Kira, and when Lydia returns with a tray of lemonade, she sits on the arm chair again.

“I feel like I'm missing something,” Scott says, somewhere between a laugh and sounding cagey.

Kira gets a hand on his shoulder. “Well you've been tense lately, of course you would be. But we're your friends, Scott, and more importantly we're your pack.”

Stiles is surprised when Derek jumps in. “Just like it's your duty as an Alpha to protect your pack, it's your pack's duty to their Alpha to—”

“Take care of you,” Lydia says smoothly, “and more than a duty, it's something we're…”

“Enthusiastic for,” Stiles says with a smile. “We're pretty psyched about it.” He finds that he isn't lying. Past all his personal hang ups, he wants to do this for Scott. With Scott. With his pack.

Scott licks his lips. “Um.”

“So, we know this might be a little unconventional,” Kira tells him, “but we’re hoping you just go with it. For the benefit of you as an Alpha and us as your pack.” Scott is just staring at her now, eyes wide, mouth open. Stiles is pretty sure he’s got it. At least, he doesn’t protest when Kira starts kissing him again. When she does stop kissing him for a moment, his eyes snap to Stiles.

“Dude?”

“I'm game if you're game,” he says, moving closer and yet—like Kira said—making no sudden movements.

Scott kisses him like they’ve been doing it for years. He’s good at it, really, slow and tender, and it’s pretty easy for Stiles to get over the fact that he’s making out with his best friend—whom he’s known since they were 6—when he just focuses on how it feels. He can understand why people are attracted to Scott. He gets it.

When they break the kiss, Stiles is suddenly hyper aware of the fact that Derek is pressed all up along his back and Scott’s eyes have bled into red. Not in a bad way, though, not in a scary way. More—more in the way Kira’s eyes go gold when she’s doing yoga on Scott’s lawn. Comfort, relaxation, no need to tamper down the beast within because the beast within is super cool with what’s going on.

Kira gets back to kissing Scott, not leaving space for words. Stiles feels Lydia shifting over the couch and then she's right there and he's got a face full of red hair before she leans down to kiss Scott's neck. He's mesmerized by the sight until Derek starts tugging at his shirt from the back, his large hands moving upwards until he's got the thing off and Stiles has no idea how or why he's the first one to start losing clothes.

Derek kisses his shoulder and then reaches in between the girls to tug Scott to his feet. The three on the couch hold their breath as Scott stares up at Derek, whose eyes are bright blue and trying to say something. Derek tugs his shirt off with the everyday ease he has about nudity and keeps his eyes on Scott until he turns his gaze to his feet and bares his neck.

Stiles knows he gasps, can hear it in the silence of the room, but no one even looks at him. Everyone’s focusing on Derek and Scott before them. Scott only hesitates a moment before placing one hand on Derek’s side; he brings the other to Derek’s shoulder, and then he’s leaning in and sinking his teeth into the tendon of Derek’s neck.

Stiles can see Derek’s knees buckle, see Scott’s arm go around him to keep him up. Finally, Scott leans back, pets his hands across Derek’s skin, and Stiles can hear him whispering, “—so good, doing so well, so good for me, Derek.”

That’s when Stiles first registers that he’s achingly, brazenly hard.

Lydia materializes out of nowhere and Stiles has no idea how she's holding Derek up so he steps in to help her, watching along with them as Kira leads Scott towards the open door of Derek's room. Derek is standing on his own two feet now, an arm wrapped around Lydia's waist for the sake of it and another on Stiles' shoulder. They wait in perfect stillness for just another moment before Derek nods, hearing a cue the other two have missed.

When they enter the room, Kira is straddling Scott. She’s still got her jeans on, but Scott is separating her from her bra already, her shirt hanging off the foot of the bed. He, in turn, has bare feet and a bare torso, and his jeans are unbuttoned and unzipped, waiting precariously to be torn away. Neither of them look up as the trio enter the room, but Stiles is the first to push into the little scene they’re built for themselves.

He doesn't know why he's the commander of the let’s-get-out-clothes-off brigade but Derek's gotten rid of his belt by the time he's ducking under the bridge Kira has made of herself. He grins up at Scott and kisses him again, while Kira takes his hand to join hers in tracing shapes over Scott's chest.

“Hey,” Scott says to him, and Stiles laughs at the ridiculousness of it.

“Hey yourself.”

They kiss for a while, and Stiles is only really aware of that, of Scott’s mouth, of Scott’s hands on his neck and face and then his shoulder and his stomach and his hair. He’s only able to pay attention to things directly happening to him, so he doesn’t really notice that Kira’s moved away to invite Lydia to the other side of the bed until he realizes that he can stretch out over Scott without her body in the way. Plus, he glances over and notices Kira is slipping a hand up Lydia’s skirt. He’s pretty sure Scott is gonna wanna watch this part, so he pushes Scott’s chin away so he can pay attention, and while his weight is trying to sort itself out, he maybe drops his hips against Scott’s.

Scott gasps, his eyes shining red. Stiles isn't totally sure whether it's the sight in front of him or the feeling of their dicks pressed against each other. Things shift and then he can see Derek. He's left a chill where he was pressed up against Stiles' back. Now he's easing Scott to lean against his chest and Scott is letting him, letting Derek move him this way and that until every member of his pack is touching him, somehow.

Derek has his hands on Scott’s shoulders, curled under his arms so he’s supporting him, keeping him close. He puts one of his hands in Scott’s hair, rubs his scalp, and Scott moans while he watches Kira undress Lydia.

Stiles is pretty much ready to bust a nut. He keeps rubbing up against Scott, powerless to stop himself, and Scott doesn’t seem to want to stop either. He tears his eyes away from Kira and Lydia eventually to look at Stiles, meet his gaze, and he looks blissed out, happy, and Stiles kisses him again, just so that he has something to anchor himself to.

There’s a shift. It’s like something choreographed out of porn, that they all decide they need to move and just do it. Scott ends up sitting more against Derek’s chest. Derek is leaning against the mound of pillows protecting him from the headboard, and Scott is reclining against the firm weight of him there, his head tipped over Derek’s shoulder, and then Lydia, who is completely naked now, is on all fours, leaning in to kiss Derek. Stiles doesn’t even have a momentary flare of jealousy. It’s—stunning, amazing, and they’re beautiful like that.

“Stiles,” Scott hisses, because this is painful now, their jeans in the way. He stands and shucks his own before he tugs Scott’s off. It isn’t until he locks eyes with Kira, though, that he knows what he’s going to do. Kira gives him a nod—of permission or encouragement or what, Stiles doesn’t know—and then she’s on her back, side flush with Scott’s as she encourages Lydia’s hips onto her face.

Stiles lets out a weary moan, and Scott looks like he’s died and gone to heaven as he watches his girlfriend eat Lydia out. She and Derek are still kissing, although slightly more fiercely now, and Stiles doesn’t have any time to waste.

Scott’s underwear is the next thing to go. They’re off, and then Stiles is sliding between his legs again, holding onto Scott’s knees, and resolutely not thinking about how they used to pick their noses together because he has his best friend’s dick in his mouth.

Someone's thighs are touching him he thinks, he's not even sure. He's got work to do. It's not like he hasn't developed a taste for giving head ever since he and Derek started up. Scott feels different in his mouth and it takes some getting used to, but he remembers to use his hands, to be gentle and rough at times.

He can hear Lydia moaning and he's pretty sure he's going to come any second but he needs to get Scott through this first. He looks up, looks up and watches Scott bite his lip and fist his hands together and groan and he can see Derek’s eyes, see that they’re bright blue and wanting, that they’re glaring right into him.

But his mouth is latched on to Scott's skin, just below his ear. At times, past the sounds that Lydia is making, he can almost hear what Derek is whispering in Scott's ear.

He’s—encouraging him, thanking him, spurring him on, telling him how good he is, how much they all love him and—fuck, Scott is rolling his hips, giving little thrusts and that’s Derek’s voice telling him to, telling him that Stiles can take it, that Stiles wants it.

He does. He has to close his eyes and focus on Scott, on his pleasure, because if he doesn’t he’s going to come in his underwear and embarrass everyone.

Scott comes, gasping wordlessly, digging his fingers into Derek’s hand on his shoulder, and then Lydia follows right after, reaching out to squeeze Scott’s shoulder, like he’s the one responsible. Once Lydia has collapsed against the pillows, Stiles pushes himself up, wiping his mouth, and Kira eases Scott up, kissing him slowly, softly.

“Didn’t Stiles do a wonderful job?” Kira asks, mouth on Scott’s jaw. “Swallowed you down and everything.”

Scott nods, reaching out a hand to cup Stiles neck and he lets him. It’s a gesture of gratitude, of acknowledgment, and Stiles leans into it, closing his eyes.

Kira and Scott and Lydia become some strange triangle then, and Stiles launches himself into Derek’s lap, rubbing like a dog in heat. Derek silences his little moans with a kiss, pulls his pleas and cries into his own mouth, and reaches a hand into his underwear, stroking him off efficiently and quickly.

He comes shaking, and Derek bites his mouth.

Derek makes a little noise against his neck and Stiles turns to see Kira and Lydia straddling Scott like two of the same. Kira is just finishing up rolling a condom onto Scott's once again hard dick while his hand disappears between her legs. Derek nibbles at his neck while they watch Lydia sink down onto Scott like it's an everyday thing.

Derek is still hard and still wearing constricting jeans, so Stiles, being the good person that he is, moves off of him to help him get them off, but Derek never looks away from Lydia and Scott, never takes his eyes off of the way Scott is fingering Kira, is always staring, and Stiles lets him. Stiles just straddles one of his thighs and takes him in hand, stroking him slowly, thumbing over the slit at the top. Derek doesn’t make any noise except for his little breaths, and he doesn’t even move until Lydia shoves Scott’s chest down so he’s lying flat against the mattress. At this point, Scott looks at Derek and Stiles, eyes flitting back and forth between them, and then he reaching up to get his fingers in Derek’s hair and pull him down to kiss.

This is the point where Stiles knows his little spikes of jealousy should kick in, but they don't. He doesn't change the speed of his hand on Derek's dick while he watches and finds one of Lydia's hands pressing down on his own chest, like she's holding herself up on him and Scott as she gets closer to the edge.

Scott must be doing something good to Kira because she’s shaking and moaning and she comes, gasping and trembling. Stiles just watches, feeling a little bit like a voyeur, trapped inside his own body while he watches all of these beautiful people struggle through their orgasms.

Derek is the only one of them who hasn’t come yet, and Stiles has to suck on his neck, lick over his pulse like he knows Derek likes, and Derek just keeps kissing Scott. He doesn’t mind. He knows Derek appreciates what he’s doing, knows that Derek can feel everything, wants everything.

“Let go, Derek,” Stiles can hear Scott muttering against Derek's lips. “Come on.”

But Stiles can see that edge in Derek's eyes, it's always hard to make Derek let go, he knows from experience. So he leans close and breathes out next to Derek's ear, “Listen to our Alpha, Derek.”

That makes him lose it. He closes his eyes against the world and makes and makes a soft, helpless noise, and then he’s coming. He grunts sometimes, softly, gruffly, but Scott’s mouth finds his before he gets the chance.

Derek is practically glowing when he comes back to himself, and Stiles feels his heartbeat stutter in his chest, knows that Derek can hear it too.

That seems to click something in Scott. Kira moves with him as if they were one, she drapes herself over his back as he flips, Lydia beneath them both. Never in all his life did Stiles imagine he would get any sort of kick out of watching Scott fuck into Lydia like he's trying to prove something while Kira whispers encouragement into his neck.

Derek is mouthing at Stiles' own neck while they watch.

“It's all about power, in the end,” Derek whispers with his voice pitched low. “Kira is his mate, his equal. A kitsune does not submit, but forms alliances. We're his brothers, his betas, showing submission of our own free will. But Lydia is headstrong, afraid to give control over to someone else.”

“She’s not a submissive person.”

“No,” Derek agrees, hand settling on Stiles’ thigh, “but she trusts him.”

When Lydia comes Scott growls in what Stiles assumes is pride. He finishes inside of her then, for the second time of the evening, and when everyone pulls apart, they’re sticky and sweaty and not a little tired. Derek is hard again—or still, Stiles really isn’t sure—and Stiles is too. Kira looks relaxed and satisfied and Lydia is still liquid against the mattress. Scott is the only one who moves, scooting to the end of the bed to tie off the condom and get it into the trash can.

Something happens that Stiles is too sex dumb to understand but there's a sudden and unexpected tension on the bed. Kira is off to the side of the crumpled sheets with Lydia curled on her side like they're both quite done. But now there are bright glowing blue eyes looking fierce and bright red eyes looking determined and Stiles isn't quite sure what's going on.

“Knew that would happen,” Lydia mutters. “Not Derek's mate so the Alpha wants to fuck you.”

Stiles blinks. “What?”

Kira sighs while the two nearly fully turned wolves over him continue to growl without moving an inch. “Scott hasn't recognized you as Derek's mate, so it's his right to have you until Derek proves otherwise.”

“Have me?” Stiles repeats.

“Fuck you,” Lydia says candidly, and Derek snarls at her over Scott’s shoulder.

Stiles can’t help but be slightly pleased with Derek’s protectiveness or jealousy or whatever it is. He’s still sitting on his ass in the very center of the bed, Scott and Derek on either side of him. It’s kind of funny, actually, because they’re kneeling so their cocks are eye-level with Stiles basically, and he smothers a little bit of a hysterical laugh at that thought.

“Derek,” Kira tries, “it’s just pack bo—”

“Not that,” Derek spits. “Not that.”

“Scott gave his permission for me and Lydia,” Kira says, trying to reason with him, but Stiles knows from the look in Derek’s eyes that there’s nothing she can say that will change his mind. Derek won’t let his Alpha fuck Stiles, even if—even though they’re not mated.

Scott shakes off the wolf face only after glancing towards Stiles. Stiles had been looking at Derek, though, so when Stiles turns his head to look at Scott, he knows. Scott loses the mutton chops and the fangs and the glowing eyes and nods. “So I’ll fuck you instead,” he says, looking at Derek.

Derek’s jaw tightens, but the wolf fades away in his face.

“Hold on,” Stiles says. “I mean—if Derek wants to, I guess, but—but if he didn’t want you to fuck me, shouldn’t I not want you to fuck him?”

“You’re not a wolf,” Scott tells him. “It’s not the same.”

Derek’s only ever opened up for Stiles. He’s said as much, when they’re in bed together. He’s fucked women and a few men from his time in New York, but Stiles is the first person he trusted enough to let inside of him. He likes it, loves it really, bottoms like he was fucking made for it and doesn’t have any shame with Stiles when they’re alone. It’s when they’re not alone that they have an issue.

“Because we’re not mates,” Stiles says.

Derek winces, he thinks, but he doesn’t look at Stiles.

“Or,” Scott amends, “Stiles could fuck you.”

“Scott—”

“Alpha,” Scott interrupts.

Derek’s shoulders tense up. “Alpha. Now’s not the time—”

“I think it’s the perfect time,” Scott argues. “Is he your mate or not? He’s in my pack. If you want me to recognize him as yours, you have to do the same.” He licks his lips. “We’re your pack, Derek. You have to be able to be vulnerable with us.”

“They are different things.”

“Not really.” Scott looks at Stiles again, who suddenly feels like he should be more offended that they’re talking about him right in front of him. “You haven’t cared that we’ve been touching, that he used his mouth on me or that I came down his throat. So why is this different?”

Derek doesn’t say anything.

“Stiles,” Scott says, cupping his jaw, “get the lube.”

Stiles knows that Scott is his Alpha, that he should do as his Alpha says, so he isn’t going to offend him by waiting for Derek’s permission. He’s not putting the lube to use, though, until Derek says it’s okay.

He scoots up back towards the pillows and reaches into Derek’s nightstand. There’s two bottles of lube, one of them nearly empty and the other full, and a long row of condoms. He grabs the full bottle and leaves the drawer open.

Scott, while Stiles was moving about, left the bed. He’s now standing at the foot of it. Kira is pressed into the arm chair in the corner, still naked, and Lydia is half asleep on the far side, eyes half open and watching.

“We don’t have to do this,” Stiles whispers to Derek as he gets onto his knees. “We can back out.”

Derek looks pained. “He’s right,” he says.

“Derek—”

“He’s right,” Derek repeats, and he closes his eyes, tips his forehead against Stiles’.

They’re only two words, but they’re heavy, and Stiles knows what they mean. They mean that Derek is struggling to accept their relationship, struggling to accept the balance of it, the vulnerability of it, and if he doesn’t accept it now, with the pack, he’ll never be able to.

“Don’t—I don’t want to be embarrassed—”

“I’m going to worship you,” Stiles tells him. “Okay? It’s just you and me, Der. Just you and me; we’re the only ones that matter, yeah?” He pushes open the lid of the bottle, his cock throbbing with the familiar clicking sound. “How do you want me?”

“You decide,” Scott says.

Derek closes his eyes against Scott’s voice and Stiles meets his gaze, silently asking him not to make this harder than it already is. He knows that if Derek were really opposed, they would already be alone together, the apartment empty but for them. They aren’t alone, though, and Scott is settling down into the chair with Kira, pulling her into his lap.

When Derek’s desperate for it, he prefers being on his hands and knees. The angle is easier, the control more precise, and he can come like that because of the way Stiles presses against his prostate. It’s not very intimate, though, not unless Stiles drapes himself over Derek’s back and keeps him on edge forever. He knows Derek doesn’t want that, though, doesn’t want to be made to look any more submissive than he has to right now.

He puts Derek on his back, head against the pillows. It should be weird, with Lydia only a foot and a half from them, but Derek doesn’t seem to mind, and Stiles doesn’t either. He’s much more focused on other things.

Derek is tight around his fingers. He’s nervous, anxious, and Stiles bites at his jaw, trying to make him relax. It’s not going to be easy if he insists on being uptight.

“I can’t fuck you like this,” Stiles tells him, putting on an air of impatience when his tone is more tender. “Derek. Don’t you want me inside you?” Derek’s answer is to bare his throat.

“Use your words, Derek,” Scott says. “Say yes, Derek,” their Alpha commands.

“Yes,” Derek croaks.

“Good. Good, you’re so good, Derek.” Stiles rewards him with a peppering of kisses all along his face. “Relax for me. Open up for me.”

He relaxes his muscles bit by bit as Stiles fingers him. When he’s up to three, Derek is a mess, quivering and twitching and refusing to moan. Scott, though, has moved the chair so that they have front-row seats, and he can probably hear the quiet, desperate noises that Derek is trying his hardest not to make.

He really does love this. Stiles will never get over it, the way Derek looks, the way he moves. He’s so fucking beautiful like this, and he gets off on it like a seventh-grader coming in his pants during his first kiss—fast and hard and aching. Typically, when they do this, Derek will come at least twice, once before Stiles is even inside of him. He’s waiting now, expecting that, but Derek seems to be holding back, refusing.

“Come on,” Stiles says into his collarbone. “C’mon, Derek, come for me. Come for us.”

“Yeah, Derek,” Lydia chimes in. “You can come.”

Derek makes a choked noise, body twitching against Stiles’ fingers like he can’t help himself.

“I’m not going to fuck you until you come.”

Derek’s eyes open, blue frustration meeting Stiles’ gaze, and Stiles doesn’t waver. He keeps fucking Derek with his fingers, curling against his prostate, keeping his thumb pressed against Derek’s perineum. Stiles knows he’s going to come any second, going to make a fucking mess out of his stomach, and he can’t wait to see it.

He kisses Derek through it so he doesn’t feel so alone.

Afterwards, still, Derek is scrambling for him, pawing at him, spreading his legs and arching against him. Stiles wants to take his time, to clean Derek off a little bit, but Derek doesn’t want to wait, doesn’t want to slow down. No, Derek’s hands are shaking when he reaches for the still-open drawer, trembling so dramatically that Scott has to pull the string of condoms out of Derek’s hands and open one for them, because Stiles’ hands are too messy and Derek is too—too everything.

“I want to see you,” Derek decides.

Stiles nods. “Me too.”

This means that Stiles has to go up on his hips and keep Derek’s legs around his waist, which is fine. He’s not really nervous for himself, more worried about making sure that Derek is all right, that he’s not losing it. At least, not in a bad way.

It’s tense like this. Derek is digging his fingers into the sheet as Stiles rolls the condom on himself, but he seems to change his mind about that as soon as Stiles begins to press in. He grabs at Stiles’ shoulders, squeezes his thighs around Stiles’ torso, and doesn’t break eye contact. It’s so devastatingly hot that Stiles thinks he’s going to come before he even gets a chance to fuck him.

“You’re beautiful,” Stiles mutters, squeezing the top of Derek’s knee. “You’re so beautiful like this—always—so good for me, Derek.”

“Stiles—”

“It’s okay. It’s okay; I’m gonna take care of you now.”

He thinks that he can make it just about the two of them but that falls apart soon enough. It's impossible not to feel the eyes following them, the heavy presence of Scott over them like he's taking part somehow.

Even Derek falters, looks over Stiles’ shoulder at their Alpha, and Stiles doesn’t mind. He understands how Derek would be searching for approval, understands that this the most vulnerable thing Derek has never done for anyone, and he needs—he needs to be told that it’s okay, that he’s okay.

If Scott says anything to Derek, Stiles doesn’t hear it. He buries his face in Derek’s neck and rears him up closer, thrusting deeper into him now, faster. Derek groans like a strangled cat, grasping at Stiles’ shoulder blades, and Stiles doesn’t stop. He needs to feel Derek come around him, needs to know that he’s demonstrating how good of a mate he would be, how good he would be for Derek.

He doesn't know what Scott is looking for, so he just gives what they have. It's not much yet, but it can be. Stiles wants it to be. He wants it to be like Derek said about Kira and Scott. Mates, equals.

He captures Derek’s hand when it goes to try to stroke himself off. It’s only been a few minutes of desperate thrusting, only a few minutes of their bodies moving together, and Stiles knows they don’t usually take very long anyway, but he wants—he wants more than this right now. He wants to prove exactly how well he knows Derek’s body.

Stiles ducks to kiss him, pins a hand above Derek’s head.

“Trust me,” he whispers.

“I do.”

“You can come like this. Whenever you’re ready.”

Derek licks his lips. He doesn’t say anything.

There's much going on about control and trust, not all of it has to do with them. He can't see Scott or Kira or Lydia but they're very much there, they're very much watching. Derek bends his neck off to the side, the way he'd done for Scott before. He knows here, in light of their pack, he can't take a plunge and bruise his neck with a biting kiss. He presses his palm there instead and feels Scott's own arm drape over his own, stopping at the wrist. Like an extension, Stiles understands, like Derek submitting to what they have and opening up to what they both belong to.

Maybe he should feel strange about his body. Maybe he should feel weird that everyone can see the way they’re moving together. He doesn’t though, not really, because he’s appeasing his Alpha, he’s fucking his quasi-boyfriend, and the only thing that would make this better is if he could hold off a little longer, make Derek a little more desperate. As it is, Derek is already meeting him thrust for thrust, gasping for air—in a fairly encouraging way—and silently begging Stiles to fuck him as brutally as he possibly can.

“Show him,” Stiles breathes out when he can't hold back any more. “Show our Alpha how we belong to each other.”

Derek’s eyes open into Stiles’. His mouth is slightly open and his green eyes are bright and beautiful and he looks—he looks like he’s seeing Stiles face for the first time and Stiles can’t help but kiss him. He’s grateful that Derek responds in turn, kisses him desperately and fiercely and doesn’t let go, even after he’s garbled his orgasm into Stiles’ mouth.

He only lets go to push Stiles’ body backwards. Stiles doesn’t understand, is too strung out and confused and needy to understand what’s happening, but before he knows it, Derek is on his hands and knees, presenting like a fucking cat to Stiles, and Stiles moans, sinks back inside of him as fast as he possibly can.

He’s not nice, now. He’s not easy or gentle or encouraging. Derek’s already come—without even touching his cock, Stiles would like to mention—and now Stiles just wants to have an orgasm, wants to bury himself as deep in Derek’s body as he can and come in him.

So he does. He lets go and lets himself feel Derek's body beneath him, soft, girly hands pawing through his hair, Scott's hands squeezing at his shoulder like they're prepping for a game.

Lydia kisses his cheek, strokes his arm, and Scott helps him off with the condom, tossing it away. Derek is a mess, broken, exhausted, and Stiles is already drifting into unconsciousness, feeling like weights are pressing on his eyelids.

“Der,” he manages to grumble, plastering himself to Derek’s side.

Derek reaches out a hand, twining their fingers together. “Thank you,” he says, face half pressed into a pillow.

Stiles strokes his thumb over Derek’s hand. “You’re welcome.”

The others pile on top. It seems impossible but somehow Scott has a protectiveness over all of them, an arm, a simple brush of his finger tips, his whole left leg. Stiles is pretty sure that this, whatever this is, worked. Kira and Lydia are nodding off, their smiles pleasant on their lips. Everything feels warm, right, humming with an energy he had never felt before.

* * *

 

That feeling is still there when they wake up, just him and Scott left, legs still tangled together in the midst of the mussed blankets. Scott quirks a smile at him as soon as he wakes. “Hey.”

Stiles snorts. “Hey.”

“I smell bacon.” Scott grins. Stiles feels tension leave his body that he didn't even know was there. The hum is still around them; it extends to the kitchen where he can hear Derek and Lydia fighting about berries while Kira hums to the radio. He doesn't lust for Scott or anyone else, anyone that isn't Derek. He just feels close and warm. Loved. He knows Scott feels it too. Like home in the space between them.

They struggle up to their feet and pull on underwear. Stiles grabs a shirt from Derek’s dresser. Derek is standing over the electric griddle on the countertop, finishing up the bacon, and Lydia is dropping various berries into pancake batter on the stovetop. Kira goes to kiss Scott good morning and Derek winds an arm around Stiles in greeting, kissing his temple.

Everything is quiet and dull and Stiles is leaning into the warm weight of Derek, completely and utterly content. He doesn’t want to move, not even when they go around to the kitchen table and start dishing out food. It’s worth it, though, when Lydia slides a plate of pancakes in front of Scott that have been lavishly decorated in whipped cream. The shapes resemble a penis and a heart and Stiles laughs out loud at the look on Scott’s face.

“Well,” Scott says, “I guess this wasn’t the worst way to spend a weekend.”


End file.
